Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Gulf Wars, Day 4 (Thursday, March 17th)

This day sucked. Had a fight (not the good kind) with Ysabel in the morning and it tainted the whole day. I did manage to buy some C&T armor that was really nice. Elbow and knee cops and a Fiore' helm. To be honest, I don't remember much else about this day. Moving on...

Friday, September 30, 2011

Inspiration

I just got finished submitting a short story to the Writers of the Future contest. Oddly, another idea just popped into my head immediately after. I guess I'll see if I can finish something in time for the next quarter's contest. I need to be able to take a piece of writing from concept to finished product a bit faster than I have in the past. It takes practice, I suppose, and the only way to get better is to do it. So far, I have a rough concept, a title and the opening scene figured out. Still a long way to go before it all comes together. Inspiration is only the beginning.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Magic time!

I'm going to take a break from the Gulf Wars posts for just a moment to get in touch with my inner geek. I know, like writing about running around with swords isn't geeky, right? Well, in this case, I just wanted to say that the new Magic the Gathering set, Innistrad, is freakin' amazing! Not in a "ridiculously powerful" sense, but in a "more fun than a barrel of goblins" sense. For those that are familiar with the game, I strongly suggest you check it out, if you haven't already. It harkens back to the days when Magic was about imagination and exploring cool new settings, rather than winning a tourney game on the third round. Not that it doesn't have some power. It does. But the feel of it is not typical of the more hardcore sets preceding it. And I like that.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Gulf Wars, Day 3 (Wednesday, March 16th) - Part Three

After our victory at the Field Battle, we gathered our things and made our way to the Ravine. The Gulf Wars Ravine is just that, a tree-filled depression in the earth located at the five way crossroads near the center of the site. It's exact dimensions escape me at the moment, but suffice to say it is large enough to contain two opposing armies. It's steep slopes are treacherous and littered with obstacles, making for a dangerous ground on which to fight. The scenario involved is a "resurrection" battle. Meaning that if a fighter is "killed" he/she goes back to the "res point" on their end of the Ravine and can then return to the fight. This continues for 45 minutes as we strive for control of three flags placed across the center of the Ravine. It's grueling, sweaty work, to say the least.

This particular day, we had arrived a bit early and spent some time drinking (water) and eating a small lunch. It was also a good time to catch up with people we hadn't managed to talk to up to that point, as there is usually a large turn out of fighters for this battle. More and more kept filtering in until both ends of the Ravine were filled with eager swordsmen/women. It took some time for things to get organized, but once everything was in place, we found ourselves lined up at our res point ready to charge into the fray. Our job was to stabilize the area between the right and center flags, about halfway up the slope. Easy enough. We knew, of course, that there would ample opportunity for us to lay claim to one or the other flag if the forces holding them were to falter. Battle is, after all, fluid.

The marshals called "lay on" and we hurried out on the battlefield, quickly arriving at our position and engaging the enemy line. Things became a blur of fighting, killing, dying and walking back to the res point. Wash, rinse, repeat ad nauseum. The fighting went on and on as the right hand flag changed hands again and again. The sides were so evenly matched that it was a constant back and forth over about ten feet of ground. At one point, I found myself next to Ysabel at the extreme upper right side, at the very top of the slope. The flag was ours at the moment, but we were being pressed hard. An enemy fighter with a two-handed long sword had been giving our people grief there for several minutes and it was time for him to take a walk. With Ysabel keeping his friends off me, I stepped up to engage him. The length of his weapon made it difficult to get close enough for a kill shot, so I settled for targeting his hands. A longsword has an open hilt, which makes the hands fairly easy to hit. Sure enough, within moments, I had landed a solid shot to his off-hand. He cursed and switched to a one-handed grip on the longsword. Not really very optimal for him and he knew it. Before I could press my advantage, a hold was called and we kneeled down to wait. The issue (which I never found out the details of) was resolved and we rose to resume the fight. At this point, the longsword wielder, acting out of desperation, threw an excessively hard shot at my upper left arm. The blow struck with such force that my entire arm went numb. As he struggled to recover, my other blade snaked out and took him squarely in the remaining hand. "Well struck!" he said loud enough to be heard over the din of battle and faded from the line to go res. Being down an arm, and seeing that our side had control for the moment, I stepped "out of bounds" to effectively kill myself and went back to my own res point.

My left arm began to function again, though it hurt like the dickens. I spent some extra time at the res point getting water and letting the pain subside a bit. The bruise left by that shot ended up being pretty epic! Once I had rested sufficiently, it was time to gather up some fighters and head back up the right slope. By this point, everyone was starting to tire and move a little more slowly. Despite the lag, the fighting over our flag had only intensified as both sides realized that time was almost up. As the struggle to claim control of the flag grew to a fever pitch, there came a loud *snap* and the flagpole actually split in half! We had fought so hard and so valiantly that the structural integrity of the wooden pole was compomised. Fortunately, the battle was merely seconds from being over, so in the end it made little difference. Time was called and we all collapsed in an exhausted heap. Well, perhaps not that dramatically, but we were definitely worn out. After all that effort, no clear winner could be determined and the battle was declared a tie! Such are the twists and turns of war, I suppose.

The fighting done, we made plans to go into town for dinner at a mundane restaurant. Tristrim and Rayne were to be our companions. After the heat and exertion, we were all looking forward to some civilization. Little did we know that we were about to embark on a journey through a desolate land utterly devoid of comfort or pity. Not to mention food. A wrong turn (whose fault it was is irrelevant) led us astray and we ended up on a dirt trail barely fit for modern vehicles. Fortunately, we had all piled into Tristram's SUV, so we avoided getting stuck on the less than ideal track. A dirt "road", which we thought would take us to the rear gate of the camp, ended up going straight into the depths of the surrounding nature preserve (or whatever you call a seemingly endless expanse of tangled woods and treacherous bogs). By the time we had realized our mistake and turned around, Ysabel was starting to succumb to a bad case of hunger mixed with heat exhaustion. She had pushed herself too hard in the Ravine and the result was a screaming headache, nausea and dizziness. Not to mention irritability. Lots and lots of irritability. We did eventually find our way back to the camp and then, much later, to the local Red Lobster, but Ysabel, the poor dear, was too sick to eat anything but saltine crackers and water. I felt terrible eating in front of her, but I was famished and suffering a bit myself. Needless to say, it did not end up being a good evening out. Getting back to camp and collapsing into bed was a huge relief. For all its ups and downs, the day was finally over.

Friday, September 2, 2011

My Apologies

I am deeply sorry for the lack of posts in the past few months. I will continue my Gulf Wars stories as soon as I find the time. This Summer has been a bit of a creative drought for me, but hopefully Autumn will see the return of my Muse.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Gulf Wars, Day 3 (Wednesday, March 16th) - Part Two

Fresh from our first victory, the Meridian Rapier Militia regrouped and took up our assigned position for the next battle. This time, we were on the right side of the main line, but starting from the downward side, near the treeline. So, effectively, we were holding the same flank as before. To my surprise, the other side had done the same thing, leaving us facing the same units we had in the previous battle. They were the Gleann Abhann contingent and our numbers were fairly even. The Kingdom of Gleann Abhann has some good fighters (some damn good), but it looked like this year their forces had a disproportionate number of newer people. Not only that, but most of them were using a sword and a large "war buckler". In contrast, Meridies had fielded quite a large number of Captains and mid-level fighters. Also, most of us were using a case of swords. So, they were just the tiniest bit outgunned. That would explain a lot about how the first battle went and I was feeling pretty confident that this one would be no different. Nor was I wrong. Lay on was called and we began our advance. Our line stayed pretty solid as we approached mid-field, but, strangely, the other side had decided to use some bizarre staggered line as they engaged. That left the first ten or so of them trying to fight against more or less our full strength. Needless to say, the outcome was predictable. They hit us in small clumps that were easily dispatched. Once we'd cut them down, we moved on to slam into the next part the enemy line. We had an open flank in front of us and in no time had collapsed it in on itself. We pressed them mercilessly and victory seemed well in hand. It was then that I found myself once again standing in a pocket of calm. Mikolaj and I held back to survey the field, looking for where we could do the most good (or the most damage, rather). It was well that we did. Two enemy fighters had broken free of the press and were running for the open field behind our line. "Stop the rabbits!" someone yelled. Indeed, thought I. My body had already reacted and I found myself running to cut them off. Mikolaj was right behind me, but his presence barely registered, so focused was I on my target, the lead rabbit. I caught up to him and held his pace, legs churning, heart pounding, the thrill of pursuit driving away any hint of doubt or exhaustion. I was going to stop him, kill him if possible, and that was that. He turned slightly toward me, still running, and our blades came together. Once, twice and apart again as we maneuvered ourselves for best advantage, him trying to get away and me trying to bring him to a stop. Finally, he seemed to realize that he would have to fight me in earnest. It looked to me like he tried to stop and engage, but my reflexes kicked in an instant too soon. My left hand blade snaked out, a slivery blur in the sunlight, and took him in the ribs before he could react. Inertia took over as his attention was pulled from what his feet were doing and he went down with a yell. He rolled a couple of times to break the impact and wound up laying on his back, one hand over his ribs. I immediately called a hold, dropped my blades and kneeled down to see if he was all right. Marshals were quick on the scene and got his mask off. My opponent was none other than Don Crowley of Ansteorra. I apologized muchly, of course, and despite his obvious displeasure with the situation, he was as gracious about it as could be expected. The marshals determined that we were both at fault (swordplay while running is frowned on) and he retired from the field of his own accord to recover. The battle continued, but it was more or less over at that point, with just a few skirmishes here and there left to be resolved. Once again, our side emerged victorious. The War Point for the Field Battle was ours! Next up, the Ravine...

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Gulf Wars, Day 3 (Wednesday, March 16th) - Part One

Here it was at last, the day of reckoning. A day of steel and blood. A day for valor and great deeds. The day we took to the field against a mighty force bent on our defeat. We were fighting for the Trimarians, by Royal decree, and we would not fail our Kingdom or our allies. The first War Point battle was the Field Battle, a last-man-standing, best-two-out-of-three melee with over a hundred fighters on each side. That may not sound like much, but when you are out there in the middle of it, trust me, it feels a lot bigger. Blades everywhere, people "dying" all around you and the throbbing, insistent need to kill. No time to think or plan, just reflex and instinct molded by experience and shouted commands. We ate a quick breakfast, gathered our gear and once again headed for the field. As the appointed hour approached, we gathered up our fellow Meridians and Ysabel gave them a "pep talk". She's very good at inspiring the troops and this time she had brought along something special to help. Black and white hearts, made from felt and sewn by her own hand, with pins on the back so we could wear them proudly on our chests. We would fight with heart, defending the honor of Meridies, or at least give the Ansteorrans something to aim for, she said. By the time we lined up in formation, our blood was up and we were ready for anything. I found myself at the inner end of our line, the far end was anchoring the left flank at the top corner of the field, which slopes a bit from the road to the treeline. We had the high ground this time. Next to me on the right was a small gap and then the main force of one of our allies. I wasn't paying much attention to who they were at that point, only the tactical impact of their presence. Next to me on the left was Mikolaj, one of the best fighters in Meridies. Mikolaj is tall and can play sniper with the best of them, so I immediately formed a plan to use that to our advantage. It wasn't long before "lay on" was called and we started forward en masse to meet our fate. There was some initial confusion as to the speed of our advance, but we got it together before it caused a problem. We hit the enemy line like a tidal wave of black and white doom. I put my plan into action then, sweeping blades down and holding them at bay to give Mikolaj plenty of targets to choose from. I was playing my role well and so was he, taking out fighter after fighter. Soon there was an impressive gap in their line and it was starting to buckle. I braced myself to charge and decimate the open flank this presented, but someone was there ahead of me. The next thing I knew, Ysabel was darting in front of me, followed by what seemed like most of Meridies. They quite literally swept the exposed flank away from me. All that was left was a cluster of four or five stragglers that had been cut off from their main line by Ysabel's charge. They were in a bad position and they knew it, but there was little they could do. One by one, they went down as I moved to help finish them off. By the time I got there, only two were left and the press of our people around them was thick. That was when I made a small tactical error. I should have simply left them to the people already engaged with them, but I was eager for just one more kill. I got it, but not the way I wanted. As I moved into the press, my left arm got pinned and I couldn't defend or withdraw in time to stop a wild shot from taking me in the ribs. I was out, but, damn, it had been an amazing battle! I'll give the details of the next fight in a subsequent post. Wouldn't want to overwhelm you with too much awesomeness at once.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Gulf Wars, Day 2 (Tuesday, March 15th)

Tuesday morning the storms had blown through and we were looking forward to the rest of the week being warm and sunny. Ysabel had been talked into being the Rapier Marshal of the Day that day, so she had to be up and out fairly early. I, on the other hand, spent most of the morning in camp trying to clean up the soggy mess that was left after all the dripping that went on in our tent the night before. Constanza was nice enough to string a clothes line for me and I hung our blankets out to dry in the sun. After that, I checked our fighting gear that had been stowed outside the tent in (I had hoped) water-proof cases. The rapier cases had held up nicely, but the case with our Cut & Thrust armor had a fairly major puddle of water in it. I had to pull everything out and wipe it down. Still haven't gotten all the rust off of some of it. Damn it. Once I'd dealt with everything in camp that I could, I got in my fighting gear and headed for the field. Once again, I was hauling the cart behind me. To be honest, I don't remember much of the fighting that I did that day. It's all kind of a blur. The biggest thing that I remember was hearing about one of our Meridian fighters making an ass of himself the night before. The story of the drunken Meridian fencer was all over Gulf Wars by the time I got to the field. I won't go into detail about it, as it is not my place to spread such stories. Suffice it to say that we had some damage control to do. The day wore on, with some fighting, some political maneuvering, watching various tourneys that I had little interest in fighting in, etc. We retired to our camp that evening, ate a nice dinner, and put our tent back in order. Both of our most important battles had been scheduled on Wednesday, a couple of hours apart. It was going to be a long, gruelling day. I was intent on getting enough sleep to be ready for it, so we turned in reasonably early. Sleeping on a dry bed shouldn't be luxury, but it sure felt like it after the previous night's waterworks. I drifted off into the arms of Morpheus and dreamed of the glories that dawn would bring.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Gulf Wars, Day 1 (Monday, March 14th)

We woke up remarkably well-rested after our first night of sleeping in a tent in quite some time. Breakfast was waiting for us and we took our time eating and getting used to the rythyms of camp life. But, before long, restlessness began to pull at us, so we donned our travelling clothes and set out to see the sights. We had shopping on our minds and plenty of funds to make it a happy experience, so we made a beeline for Merchant's Row. We had all morning to seek out treasures and trinkets, since the only fighting planned for the day was in the afternoon. We naturally ended up seeing dozens of people we knew. Stopping and talking took nearly as much of our morning as looking through the merchants' wares. We did make a point of stopping by one of our favorite vendors right off the bat, though. Darkwood Armories always ends up with a disporportionate share of our Gulf Wars budget and this year was no different. As soon as we walked in their tent, I saw it. A beautifully wrought main gauche dagger with curved quillions and an elegant pierced-plate guard. I simply had to have it. Ysabel found a similiarly gorgeous small sword that she couldn't pass up. So, new blades proudly in hand (along with two new pair of gloves that I desperately needed) we proceeded with the rest of our shopping spree. Many and wonderful were the other items we procured that morning, with even more on the "maybe" list for later. It was getting a bit late by the time we got back to camp, so we stashed our booty and ate a quick lunch before heading back out. We were camping in a more distant area than in previous years, so we'd invested in a small cart to haul our fighting gear to the field. Once we were loaded up, I got to play mule. So, heave ho and off we go! Ysabel was helping to run the first real rapier activity of the war, the Verona Street Brawl and, as such, I felt a bit obligated to fight in it. It was a melee scenario based upon the rivalry between the Capulets and the Montagues. The key wasn't to just kill the other side, but to score political "points" by making the other side look responsible for the slaughter. Baron Maximillian of the Midrealm was playing the part of the Governer of Verona. Once the aftermath of the brawls were discovered, we had a lot of fun trying to convince him of how we were merely victims of the other side's base treachery. The scenario played out very well and I had a lot of fun fighting and bs'ing my way out of being arrested by the Governer's men. Once it was over, I loaded everything up and waited for Ysabel to finish her "official duties". It was then that we were informed that a bad storm system was on its way and it would be a good idea to find shelter. Ysabel, however, had other plans. She had intended to take another cadet on the field after the scenario was over, a promising young man named Michael. We called all the high level fighters together and presented him with his cadet scarf under a sky that was rapidly darkening with storm clouds. Afterwards, I mentioned that perhaps we really should be getting back to camp, what with the weather and all, but Ysabel's sense of duty is stronger than steel sometimes. She still had a few things left to attend to before she could go. She told me to take the cart and Michael and start back for camp, she would catch up later. Fair enough, says I, with a nervous look at the brooding heavens. Sure enough, we were only halfway back when the storm struck. Its wrath was terrible to behold and we were instantly soaked. More importantly, so was all our gear. Steel blades do not appreciate being wet down like that. No, not at all. Michael and I had to split up to get to our respective camps and I promptly took a wrong turn. It was several long, wet, cold minutes before I realized my mistake and turned around. By the time I got back to camp, my mood had soured. There was no sign of Ysabel, which added worry to my list of negatives. I got our gear into the tent and wiped it all down with an old shirt as best I could. It was then that I noticed the next little detail that would plague us that night. The tent leaked. Badly. Right over our bed. The blankets, the pillows, my pajamas, the matress, all soaked. By the time Ysabel got back, I was in such a foul mood that all we could do was snap at each other as we tried to figure out how to deal with the mess. Fortunately, we didn't have to worry about dinner, since the good people we were camping with had arranged the evening meals for us for the entire war. Warm food helped, but was hardly enough to off-set the miserable evening. We spent a cold, wet night sleeping on a damp bed and being constantly dripped on. I swear, that tent is getting weather-proofed within an inch of its life before next year. To its credit, however, it didn't collapse on us under the meteorological assault that continued throughout the night. Others on site weren't so lucky. Fortunately, the next morning dawned quiet and clear. But that, dear reader, is another post.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Gulf Wars, the Arriving (Sunday, March 13th)

So, we managed to get the van mostly packed up Saturday night, which allowed us to get up early on Sunday and hit the road. And by 'early' I mean 'too damn bloody early for Corbin to reasonably function as a human being'. I'm talking like 4am, if you aren't taking into account the 'Spring Forward' time change that occurred that night. Fortunately, my lovely wife is better at mornings than I am and was the one driving. We threw a few last sundry bits in the vehicle and headed across town to pick up Melisande. The young lady collected, it was time to procure sustenance at that fine merchant of morning meatitude, Hardee's. One loaded omelet biscuit (and a side of hash browns) later and I was feeling almost human again. The road stretched before us, mysterious, inviting and free. We drove in shifts through the lengthening day, napping, chatting, stopping occasionally to pick up a few last items that sprang to mind as we went. It was well into afternoon by the time we reached our destination. Others of our party had arrived at nearly the same time, which was a fortuitous happenstance. After a surprisingly short wait to troll in to site, we all made our way to the Meridian encampment and began setting up what would be our homes for the next week. Here is where we ran into some problems. The space we had to set our tent up in simply refused to accomodate it. No matter how we turned it, the guide ropes would end up in someone else's tent. Finally, the nice couple who had set up previous to us volunteered to move their tent over to better fit the boundries laid our for our group. This done, we finally had enough space and the tent went up nicely. It was dark by the time everything was unloaded, but that was a minor issue. Being exhausted from the day's adventures, we ate a quick supper and retired for the evening. Our first night sleeping in a tent in over two years. We fell asleep remarkably easily. Little did we know what awaited us the following day.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Another Gulf Wars is Over

Gulf Wars is behind us and it was a blast! I'm just about recovered enough to post a run down of our experiences. Keep an eye on me blog, 'cause I gots some stories to tell!

Friday, March 11, 2011

War is Upon Us!

It's been two years since our last involvement in the ongoing conflict between Trimaris and Ansteorra. We have learned much since then, but we've also had trials untold that have prevented us from honing our skills as much as we would like. This year, I am not the General of the Meridian Rapier Militia. I'm simply another fighter taking the field in search of glory. But none of that matters. There is no room in our hearts for fear or mercy. Whether we go to victory or to ruin, we go with honor and with pride. Our blades are sharp, our armor shines in the sun and our banners fly proudly on the Southern wind. In two days time, we ride to War!

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Fighting Focus

Last night's fighter practice held some interesting insights into my fighting. I was reminded of just how important the ability to focus really is. I find that if I don't maintain a solid focus, I tend to fight at a significantly lower level. If I'm just "playing around" I get sloppy. If I try too hard, same deal. There is a Zen state that must be reached to fight at one's best. A kind of sharp but diffuse awareness of your surroundings and opponent. You have to commit, but you also have to be loose and sort of "zoned out". It's an odd state to be in, but once your there, it's amazing. When I lose that state, I feel clumsy and out of control. And I lose fights. I realize that this is probably stating the obvious, but it was very much in the forefront of my thoughts last night.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

About My Life

Life continues apace here, but little of it has been noteworthy. It's difficult to know what others will find interesting about my rather bland existence. Sure, I have an unusual hobby, but I can only say "I stabbed people. Again." so many times before it becomes routine. I can say that I recently got a new fencing mask and a new drape to cover the back of my head and make the mask look a little prettier. They are much better then my old ones, which were getting all kinds of worn out. We also invested in new gorgets (steel neck armor) which allows me to use the spaulders (shoulder armor) I bought a long while ago and never could get to work. Along with the gorgets, my wife bought new spaulders, too. So, her Cut and Thrust kit is more or less done. I just need some steel knee cops and maybe a gambeson. With Gulf Wars coming up (big week long event) I should be able to find those there pretty easily. I do need to adjust my bracers and the padding in my helm, but I hope to get to that tonight or tomorrow.

See, that's the kind of thing that we do around here. Exciting, huh? I could go on for hours about learning a new sword trick or how delivering this or that cut is good against such and such defence, but reading about such things isn't nearly as interesting as *doing* them. Part of me is tempted to start telling stories about our events from the perspective of my persona. Make it a work of fiction loosely based on real events. But I really wanted this blog to be broader than that. Unfortunately, I find myself unwilling to write about the day to day minutiae of my mundane life. I would hate to bore people.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Little Things

It's amazing how the smallest things can cause huge problems. Two spring to mind immediately. Germs, which have given my lovely wife a not-so-lovely chest cold and the ignition switch in my car, which locked up so badly that I had to get a locksmith to fix it. And by "fix it" I mean completely gut the little bastard so that you can now start the car with a screwdriver. Convenient, but not particularly secure. That's been the first half of the week. Can't wait to see what little things will kick my ass in the second half. Maybe I'll get mugged by a gang of freakin' midgets next.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Outside In

On the outside I am inside looking out, but inside I am outside looking in, trapped by fears learned early on, alone inside my hardened skin. Twisted into something that I had no wish to be, kept at a cold distance by the me that others see.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Frozen

The world is frozen. Snow and ice have locked down progress and movement for endless days. As outside, so inside. My mind, my spirit, down to my core, frozen solid. Locked in standby mode, hibernating, waiting for the thaw. Icy winds blow strong and fierce, stealing away the heat of creativity, of intellect, of will. A vast tundra of nothingness stretches away, flat, featureless and bleak. There is no hint of Springtime, no trace of warmth, no brave shoots of green growing things defying Winter's dominion. The light is a feeble and ineffective thing, weak and wavering, barely penetrating the crystalline mist that obscures my thoughts. My mind trudges on, weary and cold, to destinations seemingly unreachable, goals unrealized. The world is frozen.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Voices in the Darkness

What are we, but pinpoints of light floating like stars in the firmament? Lonely voices ringing out, seeking connection across the void. It is when our primal cries are heard that we gain meaning. Even a Universe, total and complete, is as nothing if there are none cognizant of its grandeur.